Jane Lends A Hand Part 39

"The other one-the one that wasn't burnt-oh, don't _anybody_ interrupt me! I want to tell him every bit. And they said that 'in spite of many something-or-other faults it showed'-I've forgotten what-they said it was awfully, awfully good-oh, I don't know where to begin!"

"Begin at the beginning, darling. No one will interrupt your story,"

said Aunt Gertrude, drawing Jane to her. "And Paul's not going to run away."

So Janey took a deep breath and commenced afresh; while Paul listened, first growing pale, and then blus.h.i.+ng a deep red. He felt the glow rus.h.i.+ng all over him, and when she had finished, he could not say a word. They were all looking at him with eyes full of that warm pride that only a family can feel, and it seemed to him that his triumph had brought more happiness to them even than to himself. He could not think of anything to say to them all, and presently he got up, and walked over to the window, where he stood looking out into the cold little garden.

But what he saw was only the reflection of the group around the fire-that very group which he had so often pictured to himself with such homesick longing during his months of exile. He thought of his lonely father, and his aimless wanderings, and then he knew that he was glad to have come home again. The world could teach him no more than he could learn by working and growing and thinking among his own people, and the world could not give him any praise half so sweet, or half so inspiring as their simple pride.

Suddenly he felt a warm little hand slip into his. It was Janey.

She looked up at him timidly-his serious profile seemed quite stern to her.

"Paul, what are you thinking about now?" she asked plaintively.

Then he laughed, and looked more like his old self.

"I was thinking that I shall _not_ go away-if Uncle Peter means that I needn't. And I was thinking how unpleasant things might be if you, ma'am, attended strictly to your own affairs!"

"And I," said Mr. Lambert, "am thinking that it is time we all went to bed. Gertrude, my dear, I hope that Anna will be able to get everything into order to-morrow. I shall want my desk to be in place especially.

And-er-Breakfast at seven, as usual."

And now the doors and windows were locked, and the lights were put out, and the household was silent and slumbering. But the pale reflection of the moonlit snow glimmered through the window upon the scene of the late revelry, and a red glow still shone among the ashes of the fire, throwing a faint red light through the shadows that deepened over the painted face of Great-grandfather Johann. And a well-contented expression that plump, ruddy old face wore-a comfortable, benevolent patriarchal look, as if that excellent old lover of law and order were saying, "And now I think everything is quite as it should be!"

THE END